BubbleStream

James Michael Becher

The Christmas Victory

Synopsis

This is a historical novel which covers the years 1860 to 1909 and deals with the lives of H.W. Longfellow, his son, Charles and Mark Twain. What do the lives of Henry Wadsworth. Longfellow and Mark Twain have in common? The answer is that both of their lives contained terrible tragedies from which they eventually found real hope and spiritual meaning—at least in this novel. This book is about one little sermon and one, even littler poem, and how, fictionally, they may have influenced and given hope to, not only the author of the poem, Henry W. Longfellow, but also his son, Charles, and Mark Twain, whom Charles meets. Though suffering tragic losses, these all eventually find hope and spiritual fulfillment.

Author Biography

I, was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, on June 8, 1943 to a Christian family and accepted Jesus at an early age. In Jr. High School, I became interested in writing and drama. I wrote poems, articles and a few short stories, and plays. In college, I won second prize in a contest with a Biblical short story, which now forms part of my first novel, “Of Such Is The Kingdom, A novel of the Christ and the Roman Empire,” published in 2003.
In 2010, I wrote the sequel, “Of Such Is the Kingdom, Part III,
Power and Persecution, A Novel of the early Church and the Roman Empire.”
I also wrote a Sci-fi novel, “Impossible Journey, A Tale of Times and Truth” and a non-fiction book, “Principles of the Kingdom."
I graduated from Clearwater Christian College in 1970 with a B.A. degree in Bible-Literature, and from Biblical School of Theology in 1974 with a M. Div. Ordained in November, 1974, I served as assistant pastor/Bible teacher in several churches. I also served in a foreign-student ministry, where I met my wife, Berenice Carett from Venezuela.
In 2014 I wrote an American historical novel, called "The Christmas Victory."

Author Insight

Mark Twain's New Year's Romance continued

Even though it's well into the new year by now, I thought I might as well post the rest of Mark Twain's New Year's romance. This excerpt picks up where the previous one left off and continues on into the next day and evening as Mark and Olivia go to hear Charles Dickens speak. I threw Dickens into the mix as a way to explain Mark Twain's writing about children. More importantly, my intent here is to start the reader wondering: will this spark of a romance between Twain and Olivia last? Twain is leaving, Will he remember her?

Book Excerpt

The Christmas Victory

Okay. Why don’t we pray to the God who is not dead nor sleeping.”

At this, Mr. Langdon prayed. “Eternal God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, we thank you that you are neither dead nor sleeping. We thank you for watching over us this past year and, as we look forward to 1868, we ask again for your divine protection and guidance. In Your Son’s name, Amen.”

They left the table and sat in the living room, as the servant cleared the table. Mr. Langdon offered Mark a cigar and the servant passed out coffee. Father Langdon looked Mark over and asked, “Is that frog story the only thing you’ve written?’

It was one thirty in the morning by the time they thought to say goodbye. As he stood looking at her at the doorstep, he bowed and asked: “Will I see you again, mam?”

She smiled. “I dearly hope so. Say, there’s a reading tomorrow afternoon by that English author, Charles Dickens. I was thinking of having brother Charles take me, but he’s not really into such things—thinks their rather stuffy.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. “I’d be glad to take you, Miss Olivia. What time is the reading?”

“I believe it’s at three in the afternoon.”

“Well, why don’t I pick you up at one? That way we could grab a bite to eat on the way.

“I think that’s a splendid idea.”

******

He didn’t get much sleep that night for thinking of her and anticipating the morrow’s date. But he finally dozed off and woke up at the stroke of noon.

The meeting hall was crowded with people, but, arriving early, they managed to find a seat fairly near the front. Soon the curtain opened and there in the middle of the stage stood a stocky old gentleman with white hair. “I thought he’d be taller.” observed Mark to Olivia.

“Shhhhh!” She shushed him. “He’s about to begin.” she whispered.

He slowly inched to her, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Dickens read from his novel “Oliver Twist.” The story was interesting but he had a hard time concentrating with the beautiful Olivia beside him. He tried to look straight at the figure on the stage while looking out of the corner of his eye at her seated beside him.

After the reading, there was a time for questions. Mark raised his hand and was recognized by the author. “As from one author to another, Sir, do all of your stories have children as main characters?”

Dickens was slightly taken aback, but answered “Most of them do, Sir.”

“Well, do you find it hard to write about them in such a way as to hold the interest of adults as well as children?”

“Oh, good heavens, no!” exclaimed the white haired Dickens. “A good writer should be able to hold anyone’s interest no matter what age group his characters belong to. Now are there any more questions?”

He felt a little embarrassed, but then thought “why not try writing about children?”

On the way home, they talked. “Well, what did you think of him?” she asked.

“He’s quite a polished writer and a polished speaker as well.”

“Have you read any of his works?”

“Not as yet. But I surely intend to.”

“I read The Old Curiosity Shop” she volunteered. “I could hardly put it down.”

Soon they had reached her home. They dismounted and he walked her to the door. “It was a lovely evening.” she said.

“Yes,” he answered. “And you were the loveliest part of it. In fact, I think you’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met.”

She laughed. “Oh, I bet you say that to every girl you meet.”

He frowned. “No, seriously. You can ask any of my friends. I hardly looked at any girls till I saw you.”

“Well,” she blushed again and sighed. “I really don’t know what to think.”

Now he sighed. “It’s a pity I have to leave, but I promised my papers out west that I’d return. There are a few things I have to set in order. But, I’ll write you every day.”

She laughed. “I doubt that seriously. You’ll get so busy with your writing you’ll soon forget about me.”

He sighed. “Will you give me a picture to remember you by?”

Now they were at the doorstep. “Wait here.” She said, and ran inside. In a moment she was back with a 5 x 4 photo of herself. “Will this do?”

“Perfectly,” he replied. He took the picture and placed it into his coat pocket. It just fit. Again his heart was pounding as he reached for her and put his arm around her. He drew her closer to him. She started to wriggle free from his grasp.

“One kiss” he urged. “One little kiss to carry with me.” He drew her to him again and their lips met.